Alternate Beginnings
by ack1308
Summary: Taylor takes a different tack in dealing with the bullies very early on in story canon. This ends her up in an unusual situation. What she gets out of it is up to her ... and Madison.
1. Chapter 1

**Alternate Beginnings**

* * *

Introduction

* * *

_[Author's Note: This story is based off a conversation I had with a friend, placing Taylor into the plot for a particular teen movie. See if you can guess what it is.]_

_[Author's Note 2: This story is based in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow. Thanks for letting me use it.]_

___[Author's Note 3: I will accept any legitimate criticism of my work. However, I reserve the right to ignore anyone who says "That's wrong" without showing how it is wrong, and suggesting how it can be made right.]_

_[Author's Note 4: First paragraph is directly from Worm: Gestation 1.1.]_

* * *

The door swung open, and I glared up at the three girls. Madison, Sophia and Emma. Where Madison was cute, a late bloomer, Sophia and Emma were the types of girls that fit the 'prom queen' image. Sophia was dark skinned, with a slender, athletic build she'd developed as a runner on the school track team. Red-headed Emma, by contrast, had all the curves the guys wanted. She was good looking enough to get occasional jobs as a amateur model for the catalogs that the local department stores and malls put out. The three of them were laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world, but the sounds of their amusement barely registered with me. My attention was on the faint roar of blood pumping in my ears and an urgent, ominous crackling 'sound' that wouldn't get any quieter or less persistent if I covered my ears with my hands. I could feel dribbles running down my arms and back, still chilled from the refrigerated vending machines.

I climbed to my feet and stood there, shaking with anger. Anger at myself, for having spoken up when all I had to do was keep silent. Anger at Sophia and Madison, for pouring juice and soda over me. Anger at Emma, for holding the door shut while they did it. Anger, even, at the _idiots_ who had designed and built these toilet cubicles so that the doors opened outward instead of inward, like they usually do. If they hadn't, Emma would never have been able to trap me so easily.

Frustration welled up inside of me. There was a buzzing at the edge of my senses, and I forced that part of me down. I didn't want that happening, not now. Not when I was so close to becoming a superhero.

Instead, I expressed my feelings verbally.

"What the fuck?" I screamed. "What did I ever do to you? Why the fuck do you keep doing this?"

Sophia laughed in my face. Madison giggled. Emma just smiled that same cruel, taunting smile, the one she used whenever she knew she had scored on me. I knew that smile all too well.

"What's the matter, Taylor?" asked Emma. "Have a little spill?"

I shook with rage, unable to speak. The buzzing was louder; I exerted my will, forced it down.

"Wow, you're all sticky," tittered Madison. "You're so clumsy, spilling your drink over yourself like that."

At my sides, unbidden, my hands curled into fists.

"Maybe you should go home and clean up," suggested Sophia. "And stay there. Forever."

She shared a high-five with Emma and they turned to go; Madison was a second behind them.

I watched them opening the door, leaving, walking away after leaving my life in ruins. Again.

_No, _I told myself. _You don't get to walk away scot-free this easily. Not this time._

The buzzing in my ears was a roar; with an effort of iron will, I forced it down. I didn't need it to do what I wanted to do.

Madison was just about to walk out when I lunged forward, grabbed her shoulder with one hand and her hair with the other. She wore it shoulder-length; I got a good grip and yanked her back into the bathroom.

She yelped as I did so, but the door slammed shut, cutting off access to the corridor. I didn't have much time and I knew it; any moment now, Emma and Sophia would be back in here to defend Madison. So I turned and shoved her; she tried to keep her feet, but the slippery juice that had spilled out of the stall worked against her, and she skidded and fell. I used the respite this gave me to flip the lock on the bathroom door; barely half a second later, the door rattled and a weight hit the other side of it. I hoped whoever it was got a bruised shoulder out of it.

* * *

Madison was on her feet by the time I turned to face her. Behind me, the door rattled; I paid it no attention at all. Nor to the raised voices from outside.

"What the fuck is _wrong_ with you, Hebert?" snapped Madison. "Fucking _seriously? _You could've hurt me, doing that."

I raised my eyebrows slightly. "I really, really don't care," I told her bluntly. I took a step toward her.

Her eyes widened slightly. "K-keep away from me," she said. "Let me out of here, you fucking psycho."

I had to laugh. It came out harsh and brittle, like broken glass. "Me, a fucking psycho. After what you and Emma and Sophia have been doing to me for the last eighteen fucking months. That's fucking rich."

She took a deep breath, tried to edge around me. I moved to block her, got closer.

"You realise that if you touch me, Sophia's gonna fuck you up good," she said, trying to sound more confident than she looked.

"No matter what I say or do, she's gonna fuck me up anyway," I pointed out. "So I might as well fucking _earn_ it for once."

"Get out of my way!" she screamed, and launched herself at me.

I let her come, swinging a wild punch that glanced off of her cheekbone and rocked her head back. Her own blow hit me in the sternum. Neither of us was an experienced brawler; I couldn't remember ever having been in a serious fist-fight before. I had reach on her, and a bubbling anger. She had desperation, and maybe a little weight advantage; she was shorter than me, but I was skinnier.

We came together bruisingly, then we went over, our feet going out from under us on the slippery tiles. My glasses came loose with the impact, skittering away into one of the cubicles. It didn't matter; I didn't need to see her that clearly.

Her hair came loose as we rolled over and over, the sky-blue pins scattering over the tiles. She was at a disadvantage; her strapless top and denim skirt not affording her anywhere near as much protection as my jeans and hoodie. I had a disadvantage of my own; the buzzing pressure behind my eyes was desperate to be released, to add to the conflict. I couldn't let that happen. I held it back, and it cost me a little in speed and reaction.

* * *

But when it came down to it, I had been running and exercising since February, ever since Sophia had incited some boys to chase me. I was fitter than I had ever been before. Madison wasn't the sporting type; she much preferred to _watch_ sports, preferably those with hunky guys in them. So while it was evenly matched at first, and she got a couple of good hits in, she tired quickly. I was just starting to get the upper hand when the lock clicked and the door opened.

"What," said a stern voice, "is the meaning of this?"

I paused, straddling Madison, in the process of drawing my fist back to slug her again, and looked up at the door. Mrs Knott stood there, with the janitor beside her. At least, I guessed it was Mrs Knott, from the voice.

_**Now**__ they can get him in just a few minutes,_ was my first thought.

Madison tried to throw me off her; I held her down, instinctively.

"Taylor Hebert!" snapped Mrs Knott. "I had thought better of you than this! Let her up immediately! What do you think you're doing?"

"Her and her bitch friends poured fucking juice and soda all over me!" I yelled. "What does it look like I'm fucking doing?"

"Get off her, _now,"_ she ordered, stepping into the bathroom. I complied, rolling off and coming to my feet. I wasn't much the worse for wear; I had already had juice and soda all over me, in my hair and everywhere. Madison hadn't. She did now. From what I could see of her, she looked even more of a fright than I did. The split lip didn't help.

"Is this true?" she asked, looking down at Madison as she scrambled to her feet and backed away from me.

"Of course it isn't true," Madison denied. "Taylor just grabbed me and beat me up for no reason."

"Fucking bullshit," I retorted, stung beyond reason. "You stood in that cubicle, and Sophia stood in that cubicle, and Emma held the door shut, and you poured it all over me." I pointed into the cubicle, and at my own clothes. "Look, Mrs Knott. _Look_ at me. They've been doing this shit to me for the last eighteen months. Just _see_ it for once. _Please."_

Mrs Knott looked at me, and I thought I saw a sympathetic expression cross her face. "Where are your glasses?" she asked, more softly.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "They came off."

She nodded, and turned to the janitor. "Find them for me, please, Carl," she said. She turned to the door. "Emma, Sophia," she added. "Come in here a moment, please."

The door opened, and I saw one red blur and one dark blur enter. Emma and Sophia, I guessed.

"Did you two pour juice and soda on Taylor?" she asked them directly.

I could have told her what they would say.

"No, Mrs Knott," they said in perfect unison.

"Taylor says that you two and Madison did," said Mrs Knott. "And Madison's presence in this bathroom does tend to bear out her story."

At tthis moment, I felt my glasses being pushed into my hand. I murmured my thanks to the janitor and put them on.

"Oh, that was Madison's idea," said Emma to Mrs Knott's face. "We didn't want anything to do with it, so we left."

To my side, I saw Madison's eyes go wide, her jaw drop in a gasp of disbelief.

"No, that's not true," I said. "They were all three there. Emma was holding the door shut."

"Did you see her?" asked Mrs Knott.

"No, but she was there when I came out," I protested.

She sighed. "Well, I'm going to need all four of you to come along to the office with me," she said. "We need to sort this out, one way or the other."

* * *

The principal looked unfavourably upon me. "I do not hold with students fighting in this school," she intoned, as if pronouncing a judgement from on high.

"How about bullying?" I challenged her. "Pouring juice and soda on someone while they're trapped in a toilet stall? Do you hold with that?"

She gave me a sharp look. "Impertinence will get you nowhere, Ms Hebert," she said disapprovingly.

"_Nothing's_ gotten me anywhere," I said bitterly.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"I mean, I was locked in my own locker, with all that filth, and nothing happened. Before that, I was bullied by those _bitches –"_

"Kindly moderate your language, Ms Hebert," she interrupted me.

"Fine, by those _young ladies," _I corrected myself, "for a year, and nothing was done, ever. And now you have them red-handed, and you seem determined to let them off on this account, too."

Sitting beside me, my father squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.

"That's not true," the principal stated. "You cannot state as an absolute fact that Ms Barnes was there when it happened, and Ms Barnes backs up Ms Hess's statement that she wasn't there, either. But Ms Clements was there, and she _will_ be punished."

"What the hell is this?" I asked. "I _saw_ Sophia there, pouring the stuff over me. I _saw_ Emma outside the stall, before she and Sophia left. But because they say they weren't there, they get away with it?"

"Not at all," said Alan Barnes, Emma's father. "By your own admission, when you were having juice and soda poured on you, you could not have had a clear view of whoever was doing it."

"Bullshit!" I shouted. "They were _there!_ Why can't anyone just accept what I'm telling them?"

The principal glared at me. "I won't warn you again, Ms Hebert," she snapped. "Now, we can only deal with the facts that we can prove. Fact one: you had juice and soda poured over you."

I could prove _that,_ all right. It had dried in my hair and clothes. In the hour it took for Dad to come from work, and boh Mr Barnes and Madison's father to arrive as well, and a woman to arrive to support Sophia – not her mother, I presumed, as she looked nothing like her – I had not been able to have a shower or even wash my face.

"Fact two," she went on. "Madison was still in the bathroom when Mrs Knott arrived. Fact three: you were fighting with Madison, which I deplore. And fact four: ever since that incident, you have been unruly and argumentative, using language most inappropriate for a young lady."

"That's because no-one wants to listen to _my_ side of things," I protested. "Emma and Sophia were in it just as much as Madison was!"

The principal shrugged slightly. "They say not," she said, and that was that.

* * *

"You okay, kiddo?" my father asked gently as he drove me home.

I muttered something, and he tilted his head.

"Sorry," he said. "What was that?"

"Fucking pissed off," I said more loudly. "Emma and the others have been doing that shit to me since my _first fucking day_ of high school, and even now, no-one's taking my side on it. It _sucks."_

"_I'm_ taking your side on it," he corrected me. "And I'm not happy, myself. I thought Alan was my friend. To think that Emma's been doing that to you, and he's not even _trying_ to find out the truth …"

"Thanks, Dad." I heaved a sigh. "I still can't believe that I got detention out of it. I'm the _victim_, and I got detention."

He nodded sympathetically. "Well, at least Madison got detention as well," he said.

"Yeah, that's the other part that pisses me off," I grumped. "Madison's _only_ getting detention. How is that fair?"

He shrugged. "As she said, she's only going by what she can prove."

I shook my head. "It's like she's bending over backward to protect Emma and Sophia. But why? What did I ever do to deserve this? Did I offend her in a past life or something?"

"I have no idea, kiddo," Dad said, ruffling my hair gently. "I have no idea." He lifted his hand away, feeling the stickiness. "But I'd suggest you shampoo when you get home. And I'll put your clothes in cold water with stain remover. If we can get to it before it sets …"

I tuned him out. Detention. All Saturday. Cooped up in the library with Madison.

This was gonna _suck._

* * *

End of Part 1: Introduction


	2. Chapter 2

**Alternate Beginnings**

* * *

Part One – Meetings

* * *

I sat on the cold concrete steps next to my Dad. Despite the fact that I was wearing a coat, the breeze cut through me, and I shivered.

"Seriously?" I groused. "Seven o'clock? What's _that_ about?"

Dad put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed. "It's about power," he confided. "Bureaucracy. Force the other guy out of his comfort zone, make him do something he doesn't want to do, and the next time he'll think twice about going against you."

I leaned into him. "Learned that with the Dockworkers' Association, huh?" I asked.

He pulled back the hood of my jacket and ruffled my hair fondly. "No, kiddo," he said with a grin. "Much earlier than that, as it happens."

Before I could ask more questions, another car pulled up next to Dad's beat-up sedan. I thought I recognised it, and when the passenger door opened, I knew I had been right. Madison got out, moving just a little painfully. I had a few bruises and contusions myself, but not, I suspected, as many as her.

She went around to the driver's side door and leaned in the window. I thought for a moment that she was kissing her dad goodbye, but the door opened and he got out. Together they approached the steps where we sat; there was plenty of room for them to go around us, but they came straight to us.

I tensed, but Dad shook his head slightly. He took his arm from my shoulders and stood up; a moment later, I stood up as well.

"Hebert," said Madison's father; his voice was curt but not unfriendly.

"Clements," replied Dad, in almost exactly the same tone of voice.

"Your girl going to cause trouble?" asked Madison's father, in the same sort of tone as if he were saying, _Is it going to rain today?_

Dad shook his head. "Not so long as yours doesn't start any." _Probably not, but you never can tell._

He looked at his daughter. "Madison?"

Silently, she shook her head. She had makeup to cover some of the damage, such as the bruise from where my first punch got her, but she still had a beauty of a black eye and a split lower lip; I had a little bruising around my left eye, and my nose was slightly swollen, but I figured I had gotten the best of it.

Dad looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. "She doesn't pour drinks on my head, I don't kick her ass," I offered.

At that, Madison looked down and away, her father nodded tightly and Dad expelled the faintest breath from his nostrils, as if he were trying not to chuckle.

"Well, that's good enough for me," Dad said. I could tell that he was working to keep a smile off his face.

"Me too, I guess," said Madison's father. He squeezed his daughter's shoulder once, then turned and walked away. Got in his car, backed out of the parking bay, and drove away. He beeped the horn once, in farewell. Madison waved, a little forlornly, I thought.

_Good, _I thought fiercely. _See what it feels like._

I sat back down on the steps. Dad sat beside me. Madison moved over to the far side of the steps and sat down herself, huddling into her coat.

"Wow," said Dad, keeping his voice down. "Did you do all _that_ to her?"

I nodded. "She had it coming," I murmured. "Wish it'd been Emma, though."

He shrugged uncomfortably. "If it had been Emma, chances are I'd have Alan on the phone right now, threatening a lawsuit. You know how he gets when Emma's threatened."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know. Just wish I'd had one good chance to wipe that smile off her face."

He nodded fractionally. "From what you told me last night, I can't disagree with you. But I'm going to have more words with that Blackwell woman. I can't understand why she's working so hard to let Emma and Sophia off."

I sighed. "Popular bullies get all the breaks. I've found that out the hard way."

He bumped my shoulder with his. "As a responsible adult, I shouldn't be saying this. As your father, I'll just say that I'm proud that you stood up to them. You didn't get everything you wanted, but you got to wale on her a bit, and you got her put in detention. I think they might be more careful about messing with you in future."

I bumped him back. "Well, I can only hope." My voice was optimistic. My thoughts weren't.

* * *

Another car pulled up then, one that I didn't recognise. The driver got out at the same time as the passenger did. Dad and I both stared.

The driver was a big black guy, somewhere over six feet in height. He moved like an athlete or a boxer or something; light on his feet. But with all that, he couldn't have been more than eighteen. He was also kind of good looking, with muscles that were obvious even under his sweatshirt.

_I could do detention with __**him**__ all day,_ was my first involuntary thought.

The passenger was a girl, maybe a year younger than me. I thought I vaguely recognised her. She had skin the same colour as the driver – _his sister, maybe? –_ and looks that were cute now but had the potential to be stunning later. Her hair was straight, with one bleached lock that had been dyed purple. She wore a huge jacket that was all fluffy around the collar; it fell to her mid-thighs. Below that, she wore lime-green tights.

He had a few words with her; she gave him the finger. I nearly giggled. He took her by the arm and marched her over toward where we sat.

Dad and I got to our feet as he approached. Dad was taller than him, but not by much; this was obvious, even when he was standing a few steps lower than us.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, in a rich baritone that sounded like dark chocolate tastes. "Are you the teacher in charge here?"

Dad shook his head with a half smile. "Sorry, no. Just keeping my daughter company till it's time to go in." He put out his hand. "Danny Hebert. This is Taylor."

The guy shook Dad's hand. "Brian Laborn. This is my sister, Aisha." He nodded to the sulky-looking teen. "Would I be able to ask you a big favour?"

Dad raised an eyebrow. "Depends on the favour."

Brian nodded. "That's fair. Well, Aisha here has a habit of ducking out of anything she doesn't want to do. Could I ask you to keep an eye on her, and if she leaves, give me a call? I've got my number here somewhere."

Dad shook his head. "Sorry, I don't carry a mobile," he said. "But I can pass on word to whoever shows up, if you want."

Brian tilted his head slightly. "I guess that's good enough," he said. "Here." He passed over a scrap of paper with a number written on it. "I've got to get going, but if you can keep an eye on her, that would help me out a lot."

Dad accepted it, read it, and tucked it away. I kind of wished that I'd had a look at it. I wasn't the type to ring boys out of the blue – or even at all – but Brian looked like a nice guy.

Okay, so he was a nice _hunky_ guy.

Brian turned to Aisha. "You duck out of this, it's video game privileges for a week," he said severely.

She mumbled something back that sounded vaguely like 'go die in a fire'. He shrugged, nodded to Dad and I, and then took the steps two at a time down to ground level. I watched him cross the parking lot and get in the car. He started the engine, backed on out, and then drove out of the parking lot.

I looked at Aisha, and she looked at me. Then she looked at Madison, and back to me. I saw the look come over her face, of mingled disbelief and glee.

"Holy shit," she said, a grin spreading across her face. "Have you two been _fighting?_ Is that why you're in detention?"

I nodded and shrugged and half-grinned in return. "Sort of," I admitted. "She's here because she and her friends dumped juice and soda all over me in the bathrooms. And I'm here because I beat the shit out of her for doing it."

Aisha cackled out loud - literally _cackled._ I blushed. "High five, sister!" she crowed, holding up her hand.

I could not recall ever having high-fived someone before in my life. I did it now; it felt kind of cool. Madison, I saw out of the corner of my eye, glared at us both.

Dad cleared his throat and nudged me with his shoulder. I glanced up at him. "Well, I _did."_

"And you also swore, repeatedly, in front of the teachers," he reminded me.

"Do you blame me?" I asked bluntly.

He hesitated, then shook his head. "I felt like swearing a couple of times there, myself.". Then he put on a stern look. "Which doesn't mean that I condone it, young lady."

Aisha watched the byplay between us, eyes bright. From being sulky and resentful, she seemed to have transitioned to being alert and interested. I offered her my hand. "Taylor Hebert. You're Aisha?"

She nodded, and shook my hand. She had a surprisingly strong grip. "Yeah. Nice to meet someone else who doesn't take any shit from bitches."

* * *

I was saved from an awkward reply by the next arrivals in the parking lot.

Three cars pulled up, one after the other. Two of them, I wasn't really sure about; the third, I was fairly certain, belonged to Mr Gladly.

Mr Gladly, who urged his students to call him 'Mr G'. Mr Gladly, who strove to be the 'popular teacher'. I was sure that he carefully did not see the actions of some of his more popular students, especially the girls, when it came to bullying me. After all, I wasn't popular. I wasn't anyone.

And if he didn't notice what was going on, he didn't have to do anything about it, and risk becoming the uncool teacher who actually enforced the rules.

However, he was also the least senior member of the faculty, and so it had fallen to him to while away his Saturday in overseeing our all-day detention. I hoped he'd brought a good book.

On second thought, I hoped he'd brought a _crappy_ book.

_I_ had brought a good book. Several, in fact. If the others would just leave me alone, I could spend the day reading, and count it as not a total loss.

I didn't know which way it would go, yet. Aisha seemed to be fairly cool, if just a little over the top; I was reasonably sure she wasn't going to give me any grief. However, Madison was popular enough in her own petite, cute way. If she could bend the last two arrivals to her ends, this could turn out to be not such a great day after all.

* * *

I watched as they got out of their respective cars. Two fathers, two sons. Mom didn't see fit to come along in either case, I saw.

They converged with Mr Gladly – I refused on principle to call him Mr G – and then the fathers went back to their cars, and Mr Gladly approached the steps with the boys in tow.

I thought I recognised them. Jason was half Korean or something; his dad ran a convenience store downtown. He had a red and green bandanna tied around his left bicep. I frowned; I knew exactly what that meant. He was an ABB recruit.

Eddie I had met in passing a couple of times, outside of school. His dad was a dock-worker, and my dad had found him work a few times. But the shaved head was new. I knew what that meant, too. _Empire Eighty-Eight. Joy._

So not only were we going to be stuck in detention all day, we were going to be stuck in detention with two guys who were undoubtedly there for more or less the same reason that Madison and I were there, and who were unlikely to leave their issues at the door.

What _moron_ had decreed that these two gang members should serve their detention at the same time, in the same room? I had an idea that I knew; Principal Blackwell was quite good at entirely missing the point of student interactions.

_Well,_ I told myself, _at least there's __**one**__ silver lining. Madison won't be able to goad both of them into picking on me at once._

* * *

Jason and Eddie were giving each other wary looks as they followed Mr Gladly to the steps. Dad and I were still standing, so Dad took a few steps down to meet the teacher as he came up.

"Gladly," he greeted the younger man, bluntly.

"Danny, how are you?" replied the teacher, all smiling and good humour.

Dad held up a finger. "Can we have a word, for just one moment?" he asked, tilting his head to the other end of the steps, away from where Madison sat.

Mr Gladly frowned, not sure what the situation was, then shrugged and followed him.

Jason and Eddie were left behind, still bristling and glowering at each other, but it seemed to me that they were doing it more for form's sake than for any particular deep loyalty to their respective gangs.

"Jason, Eddie, how you doing?" I asked them. I could have cared less about the answer, but it prevented what would otherwise have threatened to be a very awkward moment.

Jason shrugged; Eddie went to do the same, visibly changed his mind, and said, "Eh. Fuckin' detention. Am I right?"

I nodded. "Can't say you're wrong," I agreed, slightly surprising myself. I would never have started a conversation with a boy I hardly knew, before yesterday. But pulling Madison back into that bathroom and laying some well-deserved punishment on her had given me a much-needed dose of self-esteem and self-confidence.

Off to the side, I could just hear my Dad speaking in a low tone to Mr Gladly.

* * *

" – _and a half fucking __**years**__, Gladly. She was bullied that long. Then the locker thing. You put your hands on your fucking hearts and promised to keep an eye on her. And now, you've finally caught one of the bullies because she stood up for herself – "_

" – _she started a fight in the school,"_ Mr Gladly protested.

" – _and __**caught**__ one of the bullies. And got in fucking trouble for doing by herself what all of you have fucking __**failed**__ to do over the last eighteen months. So she's doing detention. I'm not fighting that. But you'd better keep a damn close eye on it. If she comes home and says she was bullied when all you have to do is keep your eye on __**five fucking kids**__, then I will be having words with you. And one more thing. You haven't earned the right to use my first name. For you, it's 'Mr Hebert'. Got it?"_

"_I don't much like your tone –"_ Mr Gladly's tone was defensive.

Dad seemed to be looming over Mr Gladly. I thought he might hit him. _"Right now, I don't much care."_ His finger shook in Mr Gladly's face. _"Do. Your. Fucking. Job."_

* * *

Abruptly, he turned and strode back toward where I stood with Aisha, with Jason and Eddie a couple of steps lower down.

"I'll be back this afternoon, okay, kiddo?" he said with a smile.

"Sure thing, Dad," I said with a return smile. He gave me a brief hug, nodded to Aisha, then took the steps down to the parking lot two at a time, much like Aisha's brother had done. I suspected he was hurrying to ensure that he didn't come back and say something else to Mr Gladly.

He turned and waved as he got into the car; I waved back. The battered old sedan started with an asthmatic cough, and rattled out of the parking lot. I watched it go.

* * *

When I turned around, Mr Gladly had the front door of the school open. Everyone else was filing in; Mr Gladly was looking at me with an unreadable gaze. "If you'd like to join us, Ms Hebert?"

I nodded. "Certainly, Mr Gladly." I picked up my bag and followed them in. The door swung shut behind us.

The fluorescent lights in the library flickered into life as Mr Gladly swiped his hand down the bank of switches. Indistinct, gloomy caverns became brightly lit aisles, filled with book spines.

Some study desks had been set up near the front of the library; I didn't know whether this was on purpose, or if it had been random chance. Mr Gladly directed us to sit there. I sat at one end; Aisha plunked herself next to me, and promptly put her trainers up on the desk. Eddie gave her a glare; she didn't seem to notice. He and Madison went and sat at the far end of the desks. Jason shrugged and sat in between.

* * *

Mr Gladly fussed around at the librarian's desk, opening drawers, finally managing to produce a laminated document. He looked up, and saw the soles of Aisha's shoes.

"Ms Laborn, kindly put your feet on the floor," he snapped.

Aisha popped gum. I hadn't even known she _had_ gum.

"And get rid of that gum!" he added.

Slowly, insolently, she reached into her mouth, pulled out a wad of pink gum, and placed it neatly in the middle of the sole of one of her shoes. Then she started to put her feet on the floor –

"Wait!" Gladly's shout stopped her.

She paused, shoes hovering above the floor. "What, put my feet on the floor, or not put my feet on the floor?"

"You can't put your foot on the floor! You've got bubblegum on it! Take the bubblegum off your foot and put it in the bin!"

"But I was saving it for later," she protested.

"On your _shoe?"_ he asked, incredulous.

"I got clean shoes," she told him smugly.

"Just – take it off, all right?" he snarled, sounding aggravated. I could feel a grin creeping across my cheeks. Aisha seemed to have a knack for irritating people.

She shrugged. "Okay, no skin off my nose."

What he didn't see, and I did, was that she was surreptitiously unwrapping another piece of gum under the desk. She bent her leg, pulled off the piece of gum stuck on her foot, and palmed it, while popping the fresh bit into her mouth. With every evidence of enjoyment, she began chewing on it.

_That_ got a reaction.

* * *

Mr Gladly's jaw dropped. Madison and Eddie, just as taken in by her stunt as Gladly was, nearly fell off their chairs in surprise. I suspected that Jason had also picked up on her sleight of hand; he barely reacted. I shared a grin across Aisha with him.

"Oh god!" choked the teacher, coming to his feet. "Ms Laborn! Spit that gum out right now! Give it to me!"

He could have chosen his words better. She spat it into her hand … and threw the piece that she'd peeled off of her shoe. Her aim was very good, or very lucky. The wad of freshly-chewed gum caught him more or less between the eyes.

Absolute, dead silence fell.

Silence broken only by the sounds of five teenagers trying desperately not to burst out laughing. And by the sounds, or so I presumed, of blood vessels popping in Mr Gladly's temples.

Reaching up, he explored where the wad of gum had impacted, then wrenched it off. With a convulsive effort, he hurled it straight down into the trash can that sat behind the librarian's desk. The metallic clang echoed throughout the library.

"Miss Laborn!" he shouted. His voice also echoed, somewhat more loudly.

"Shh!" Aisha's entire attitude was cheeky. Her finger was across her lips.

He came storming up to her, and swiped her shoes off the desk. Her feet hit the floor with a thud. "Don't you 'shh' me, you little …"

I cleared my throat. "Uh, Mr Gladly?"

Fuming, he jerked around to glare at me. "Don't _you_ get in on this, Ms Hebert!"

My voice was mild. "I just wanted to point out that you might want to lower your voice a little. We _are_ in the library, after all, and we're sitting right here. You don't have to shout."

His glare intensified, switching from Aisha to me.

Unexpectedly, Jason raised his hand slightly. "She's right, sir." He pointed at the very prominent SILENCE sign on the wall. "Let's have some respect, sir." Amazingly, he even managed some reproach in his voice.

"Yeah," Aisha chimed in. "Library. Like they said." She threw horns with both her hands at once – the fresh gum concealed in one hand – and added, "Respec', mon," in what was supposed to be a corny Jamaican accent.

Mr Gladly looked from one to the other of us, obviously fuming. And then Eddie spoke up from where he sat near Madison. "What she said." He indicated me. "We can hear you good. You don't have to shout."

And wonder of wonders, even Madison chimed in with an "Uh huh."

Was she joining in because she'd had a change of heart, or because everyone else was going that way? I didn't know, and I didn't really care. They supported us, and that was what mattered.

Gladly gave us all a general glare, quite removed from the laid-back, unflappable 'Mr G' persona that he liked to project. He drew a deep breath, then turned to Aisha.

"You've just earned yourself another Saturday detention, young lady," he promised her, lowering his tone of voice.

"Eh, whatevs," she said, disinterested. She unzipped her jacket, and it fell open to reveal what she was wearing underneath.

Which was not, to be honest, all that much. I blinked; Jason frankly stared.

She had on a strapless top which I would have hesitated to wear as _underwear_, doing its best to cover an endowment that was somewhat more prominent than mine. Her ripped denim shorts were scandalously short. And the entire remainder of her ensemble consisted of the lime-green tights, and the trainers.

Mr Gladly's eyes bulged, and his face reddened all over again. I began to wonder about his blood pressure.

"Miss Laborn!" he snapped. "Cover yourself!"

Aisha rolled her eyes, and popped her gum. Gladly didn't even register it, this time around. He was waiting for a response from her, and she wasn't giving him one.

"I said," he told her, "cover yourself!"

"I heard you the first time," she said absently, digging through one of the capacious pockets of her jacket.

"That's an order!" he insisted.

She looked up at him. "I don't take orders from my brother, much less you. Which he _will_ kick your ass if you so much as lay a hand on me. The school doesn't have a uniform, and I'm covered up. So bite me." She pulled her hand out of her pocket, and gave him the finger with it.

It was around about now that I began to realise the truth about Aisha Laborn. She had a problem with authority figures. All authority figures.

"That's another detention!" he shouted.

All five of us – we couldn't have _planned_ it this well – said "Shhh!" simultaneously, with our fingers to our lips. Aisha used the finger she'd just shown him.

Mr Gladly glared at Aisha, then at the rest of us, then stomped back to his desk. He retrieved the laminated document.

"'This detention will run from seven in the morning until five in the afternoon,'" he read out loud. He lowered the document, and looked at us all. "However, due to the disruption that some of you are intent on causing, this will run later."

I raised my hand. "Sir?" I interjected. "That's not fair. I was here before you were."

"And so?" he asked.

"And you made me wait. On the steps. In the cold wind. If you'd gotten here earlier, we could have been inside and started on time."

Madison raised her hand. "Me too, sir."

Aisha popped her gum. "Yeah, me too. Gonna give yourself detention for being late?"

Gladly had apparently decided to ignore her. But he couldn't ignore the rest of us. Maybe he didn't want another face-to-face chat with Dad.

" … fine," he gritted. "Seven until five. But don't push it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Aisha interjected cheekily.

He continued to ignore her. "'No electronic entertainment devices may be used. Library computers may not be used. Phones may not be used.'"

Madison jerked upright in her seat, and even the two boys looked unhappy. _"What?"_ she interrupted him.

He raised his eyes to regard her sternly. "Miss Clements, please limit your outbursts."

"But … no _phones?"_ she wailed. "What am I supposed to _do?"_

He shrugged elaborately. "Read a book," he suggested. "Do some study. It's not my problem. I really do not care."

"But –" she began.

"But _nothing,"_ he cut her off. "I hear one electronic beep, one ringtone, one ping, I see one earbud, one bluetooth earpiece, one piece of electronics that should not be there, and it's confiscated till Monday."

His tone was firm; Madison subsided, looking stricken.

I didn't own a phone; I never had. But I couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit sorry for her, then.

"Are we perfectly understood on this?" asked Mr Gladly.

No-one spoke.

"I said, does everyone understand about this?" he pressed.

There was a general mumble of agreement, and he nodded, satisfied that he'd cowed us.

"Good," he said. "Now, I'm just going to be down the hall, in my office, with the door open. I hear one strange noise, I will be coming back in here, and you don't want that."

Without further ado, he exited the room, hooking the door open as he went. There were some flies in the room; one rode out on his back.

* * *

Madison and Eddie were conversing in low tones, while Aisha and Jason commiserated with each other over how much of a douche Mr Gladly was.

I got up and tiptoed over to the door, and peered out. It was all an act; I knew exactly where Gladly had gone. He was heading for the teachers' lounge.

All four had fallen silent, watching me. I turned to them.

"It's all good," I said in a normal tone of voice. "He kept going. He's probably heading to get a cup of coffee."

Aisha stretched, and cracked her knuckles, as she grinned wickedly.

"_Excellent."_

* * *

End of Part One


	3. Chapter 3

**Alternate Beginnings**

* * *

Part Two - Pranking Gladly

* * *

Aisha was the first out of the library. Jason followed her; I followed Jason. Eddie pulled himself out of his chair to follow me, and Madison trailed along behind.

"Where are we going?" asked Madison in an undertone.

"Dunno," Eddie grunted.

"What's she doing?" she wanted to know next.

"I have _no_ idea," I whispered back over my shoulder. "Jason, what's Aisha up to?"

"Fucked if I know," he replied with a grin, "but I wanna find out."

Up ahead, Aisha made an indistinct comment about 'elephants on fucking parade' before she came to a halt right in front of a door.

Gladly's door.

"Right," she grinned. "Time to get to fucking _work."_

* * *

He had left his office door unlocked, which was his first mistake. But then, I would not have put it past Aisha to be able to pick locks, too. She eased the door open and slipped into the office; we crowded in after her.

"Okay," she decided, hands on hips. I wasn't quite sure when she had assumed command of our group, but no-one was objecting, not even Eddie, our resident skinhead. He was, in fact, staring around at the interior of the office. I couldn't blame him; I was a little shell-shocked, myself. We were breaking into a teacher's office, to commit some type of mayhem or other. This was a first, in my life.

But not, apparently, in Aisha's.

"Jason, Eddie, you do shop, right?" Aisha went on.

"Sure," Jason agreed. Eddie glared at her, and said nothing.

Aisha sighed and rolled her eyes. "Madison, could you ask your boy-toy if he does shop, and if he's any good at it?"

"He's not my –"

Aisha made an impatient gesture. "Ask him already!"

Madison looked at Eddie. "Uh, Aisha wants to know –"

"I heard her," growled Eddie. "Yeah, I do shop. And I'm better at it than any fucking slanteye."

Jason bristled, and I put a hand on his arm. He turned to me. "Did you hear what he –"

"I heard," I cut him off. "But you know what? Not the time. We're in a _teacher's office._ If you want to fight, fight, but take it elsewhere." I glared at Eddie. "That goes for both of you."

Eddie looked at the floor and mumbled something which sounded vaguely like "Fine, okay."

"Well fucking said," Aisha praised me. "Now, I can see two things we can do –"

"We can staple all his papers to his desk," Madison offered brightly, brandishing a large and dangerous-looking stapler.

Aisha shook her head, but in a kindly fashion. "Nice idea, and we might do that later, but right now? We want him to think that whatever happens is an accident. Or at least sort of possibly accidental. All his papers getting stapled to his desk? Not an accident."

"So what did you have in mind?" asked Jason.

Aisha grinned. "I thought you'd _never_ ask."

* * *

Madison stood back while Jason and Eddie examined the bottom of Gladly's office chair. It was upside down on his desk, having taken both Jason and Eddie to get it there. Each of them pointedly ignored the other, but willingly followed Madison's instructions. It was a half-assed kind of teamwork at best, but teamwork it was.

In the meantime, Aisha and I were looking at his oversized personalised coffee mug, the metal type with a flip-open plastic top.

"Take a switchblade," she explained cheerfully, "and work it around under the rim. You do it right, the next time he goes to drink from it, the top comes off."

"And he wears the lot," I filled in. "That's _mean." _I paused. "But where are we going to get a switchblade from?"

"I dunno," she commented. "Jason, loan me your blade?"

Jason glanced at her, dug in his pocket, and produced a switchblade, which he slapped into her palm. Aisha popped her gum.

"Okay, smartass," I retorted, "so where are they gonna get the tools to take the base off that chair?"

From one of the larger pockets of her oversized coat, Aisha withdrew a flat black plastic case that rattled as she dropped it on the desk. "I got no fuckin' idea. You tell me."

* * *

The miniature tool kit lay open on the desk. Jason held the base of the chair while Eddie unfastened the screws that held it on, the two of them pointedly ignoring one another. If they had something to say, they said it through Madison.

Aisha held the coffee cup while I worked at wriggling the switchblade tip under the rim of the top. As she had stated, it was only glue that held it there, so once we broke that all the way around, the top would come off at the slightest provocation.

"So wait," I said, changing my angle of attack. "You knew we were going to be doing this."

"Not really, no. Gum?"

I accepted the wrapped cube of bubble gum and stowed it in my pocket. "Thanks. So why the toolkit?"

She shrugged. "I figured I'd get the chance to do _something_ if I kept my eyes open, so ..." She popped gum. "And I was right."

"So you just brought along a set." I waved the switchblade. "You couldn't have known someone would have one of these."

"Eh." She shrugged. "A screwdriver'll do the job too." She gave me a flashing grin. "I used to be a Girl Scout, y'know? Always prepared and all that shit."

I raised an eyebrow as I stared at her, in her microscopic tube-top, the ripped denim shorts, the lurid lime-green tights. "You? In the Girl Scouts?"

She shrugged. "Hey. My dad made me go. He said it'd give me structure and discipline in my life."

"And did it?" I figured I knew the answer to that one already.

She popped gum. "Turns out that structure and discipline and me don't get along so well."

"I'd never have guessed."

She grinned at me, then turned to Madison. "How they doing with that?"

"Just about finished, Eddie says."

"Excellent."

Just as she said that, I managed to wriggle the switchblade that last little bit, and the top popped off of the mug. "And we're done here," I added.

"Sweet. So here's what we're gonna do ..."

* * *

I knew when Mr Gladly was on the way back, of course. But I couldn't just let the others know I had bug control powers. So I monitored his progress and when I figured we still had just enough time to finish what we were doing, I raised my head.

"I think I just heard something, guys," I warned them.

"Okay," Aisha decided. "That'll have to be good enough. Madison, get 'em to put the chair back together. Taylor, you about done there?"

I looked back down at where I was scraping the remnants of glue off the metal rim of the cup. "Just about."

"Good. Put it together and get rid of the crap. Make sure nothing's out of place."

I nodded, putting the plastic top back on the cup. It still fitted snugly, but any sort of real force would make it pop off. A folded piece of paper from his desktop printer served to hold the scraps of glue and plastic I had scraped off of the mug.

* * *

As Jason and Eddie gingerly set the chair down, I swept the evidence of their work on to the paper as well, then folded it up tightly. Madison looked at the paper, then at the printer, then at the laptop which lay folded on the desk.

"Shit," she complained. "How much time do we have?"

"Not enough, I don't think," I advised her. Any trickery with a computer took a little time to set up, and he was already on the way back.

"Yeah, time to go," Aisha agreed.

One by one, we slipped out of the office. I went last, closing the door carefully behind me. Even with my knowledge of his movements, we cut it close; I ducked into the library just a few seconds before he walked around the corner.

* * *

We were well engaged in innocuous activities by the time Mr Gladly looked in at the door. Aisha had her trainers propped up on the desk again, I was browsing the shelves for a good book to read, Madison was chatting with Eddie, and Jason was cleaning his nails.

Gladly's eyes narrowed at the sight of Aisha's shoes.

"Miss Laborn -" he began warningly.

She ignored him and popped gum.

He must have recalled how this particular encounter went, the last time he tried to exert his authority over us. So he paused for a long moment, then said lamely, "That's another detention."

She gave him the finger without even looking.

"Careful," he warned. "I can keep giving you detention."

She popped gum. "And I can keep not caring," she retorted. "You gimme detention, you gotta show up too. I can do this all day."

"If detention doesn't get your attention, then maybe suspension or expulsion will," he fired back.

Her shrug communicated supreme indifference. "Cool. I could do with a holiday."

She still hadn't looked at him. The rest of us were covertly watching the both of them.

Perhaps aware of his audience, he withdrew, leaving the library door open behind him.

Putting the book back on the shelf, with the folded paper inside it, I went back to the desks.

"Holy shit," Jason breathed reverently. He was about to say something more, but Aisha held up a finger.

"Wait," she told us quietly. "I wanna hear this."

* * *

Nothing seemed to happen for the longest time. I was, of course, aware of Gladly's movements. It was difficult to not let this on, but I managed somehow.

From what my power was telling me, he had a large paper cup of coffee, which he poured into the metal mug. Then he stirred in milk and sugar, at my best guess, before popping the top back down.

There was a large sandwich of some sort - the flies were attracted to the smell of meat and condiments - that he unwrapped from a paper packet.

He sat down in his office chair, picked up the coffee in one hand and the sandwich in the other. Sipping from the coffee, he took a bite from the sandwich, chewing rapidly. He seemed to be talking to himself angrily, probably about Aisha's blatant disrespect; I couldn't quite make out words with my bugs.

He too another sip and another bite, slowly beginning to relax.

And then he leaned back.

At first nothing untoward happened, but then he took another drink from his cup, and at this angle, the top failed to stay on.

Hot coffee - thankfully not hot enough to scald, but plenty hot enough to be uncomfortable - poured over his chin and chest and stomach. This caused him to rear back with his feet still on the floor, trying vainly to escape the flood of hot liquid.

* * *

Aisha's toolkit had included a miniature file. Eddie and Jason had, between them, filed down the threads of the screws so that they only just barely held the base of the chair in place. The folded paper that I had stashed in the book held, as well as scraps of glue and plastic, the tiny pieces of metal that had been filed off of the screws.

* * *

Mr Gladly's convulsive action sealed his fate. The grip of the screws was already pushed to the breaking point by the fact that he was leaning back; now they pulled free altogether, the base of the chair springing back to the horizontal. This only exacerbated his backward plunge.

What _we _heard was something along the lines of _"Nyeaarrrrgggh__**FUCK!"**_, interspersed with a loud crash and clatter.

* * *

Aisha leaped to her feet. "Fucking _yes!"_ she exulted, clasping both hands over her head and doing a little victory dance. I held my hand up; she high-fived me, then slapped Jason's hand on the rebound. Jason leaned back and high-fived Madison, who passed it on to Eddie.

"He's coming!" I warned in an undertone; by the time Mr Gladly stormed in through the library doors, we were all seated demurely at our desks. Aisha even had her feet on the floor.

Mr Gladly was … a mess. His grey jacket and white shirt – no tie for Mr G, he was too cool for that – were stained with coffee and what looked like chilli sauce. His hair was disarranged, bits and pieces of sandwich adorned his clothing, and a piece of lettuce was stuck to his forehead.

He was also _livid._

"_Who did this?"_ he screamed, holding out a shaking hand, upon which the loosened top of the coffee cup, as well as two of the filed-down screws, were resting.

"Did what, sir?" Jason asked innocently. "You appear to have had a bit of an accident. Are you all right?"

The mild words, far from calming him down, seemed only to stoke his blood pressure. I almost expected to see steam leaking from his ears at any moment.

"You!" he hissed, pointing at Aisha. "You fucking did this, you little bitch!"

Aisha popped gum. "Did what?" she asked blankly.

Mr Gladly stomped right up to her desk. _"You sabotaged my chair and my coffee cup!" _he screamed at her. _"I know you did it! It had to be you!"_

"Uh, sir," offered Jason. "She's been in my sight the whole time."

"So it was the two of you!" shouted Gladly, his face still a worrying shade of purple.

"Uh, no, they've both been in my sight the whole time," I spoke up. "They didn't do anything out of my sight."

"And Taylor hasn't gone out of my sight," added Eddie.

"And Eddie's been with me the whole time," Madison concluded.

Aisha grinned. "Yeah," she confirmed. "So unless you want to say that Captain Nazi over there's willing to work with me and Jason, you might wanna think that one through again."

"Yeah, sometimes things just break," Jason pointed out.

"Shit happens," Aisha observed, and popped gum. "The world's an imperfect place."

"If any of you can tell me who did this," Gladly grated, meaning _the first person who rats out Aisha Laborn,_ "you're let off detention as of right now."

A long silence fell. A long, _thoughtful_ silence.

Madison raised her hand.

I felt, rather than saw, Aisha stiffen beside me. _Is she going to turn us in?_

"Yes, Miss Clements?" responded Mr Gladly. "Do you have something to say?"

"Aisha had no more part in what happened to your chair and your cup than I did," she told him, absolutely truthfully and totally misleadingly. "If you punish her for it, you have to punish me too."

I raised my hand. "Me too," I agreed.

Jason nodded. "And me."

Eddie stuck his hand up briefly. "Me too," he grunted.

Gladly glared at each of us in turn; we gazed innocently back.

"Okay," he growled. "But one more incident – _one more_ – and you're all on detention for the rest of the fucking _year!_ Even if I have to cash in all my vacation days to make it happen!"

Turning, he stomped out of the library.

* * *

We all burst out laughing.

I laughed so hard that I fell out of my chair, and rolled on the floor.

Eddie fell over backward, chair and all, and lay there, kicking his heels in the air as he held his sides and laughed.

Aisha and Jason clung together, each too weak from mirth to stay upright, but deriving support from each other.

Madison was leaning against her desk, her face red with hilarity. She was trying to keep it in, but the squeaks emitting from her throat sounded like a mouse on steroids.

We laughed, and laughed, and laughed. I doubled over as I lay on the floor, laughing so hard my stomach hurt. I could hear Aisha not just laughing but _cackling_, as she had done on the steps outside, and that made me burst out into a fresh wave of laughter.

* * *

"Oh god," managed Madison. "Did you see … the lettuce …"

"On his forehead, yeah," I gasped. "I was gonna say … but how do you tell someone about something like that?"

"Oh fuck, that's gotta be the funniest thing I've ever pulled off," Aisha giggled, having slid down from her chair to lean against the desk.

"You fucking rock at the pranks, Aisha," Jason told her with a chuckle.

"I know pranks," Madison told her with an air of solemnity that broke a moment later when she burst out giggling, "and that was a fucking awesome one."

"I will never, in all my life, pull off anything half as good as that one," Eddie agreed, still red in the face from laughing so hard.

"So where's he gotten to?" asked Aisha. "Back in his office?"

"Hardly," I snorted. "He'll have gone to wash his shirt, or at least soak it a bit." My bugs told me, of course, exactly where he was. He'd gone down to the locker room; his shirt was in a basin with hot water, and he was getting ready for a shower.

I was never so glad that my bugs _couldn't_ get me a clear image.

* * *

Aisha grinned at me. "So you figure he should be a while?"

I shrugged. "Probably."

Her grin widened. And she said that one word again, the word which spelled trouble every time she uttered it.

"_Excellent."_

* * *

End of Part Two


End file.
